Life With the Wife
by writerspassion18
Summary: You love your wife no matter what she does. Whether it's touching you with freezing feet or turning into a pygmy puff with unshaven hair in the winter. You just...do! A collection of Dramione drabbles inspired by the AMAZING artwork of Yehuda Devir :).
1. The Scalding

Both Draco and Hermione were traditionalists. Despite his traditions coming from a pureblood, social elite perspective and hers coming from a muggle one, some of them were fairly similar. It was easy then to agree upon not living together before they got married. Blaise and Theo, both having already been married two years and a year, respectively, had warned him of the "horrors" to come when he and Hermione had said "I do" and would be sharing close quarters on an everyday basis.

"You won't stop loving her." Blaise had said, his lips morphing into a sneaky smile. "You'll just start questioning things a bit."

Draco had rolled his eyes, seriously thinking that his best mates were exaggerating. However, having now spent six months married to the love of his life, _maybe_ his friends weren't wrong. Luckily his wife was damn adorable. Merlin forbid if he had been reduced to an arranged marriage and forced to endure these "horrors" and inconveniences with someone he didn't even like.

* * *

 _Month One_

There were times when Draco could trap Hermione in bed, but most often than not she was an early riser. On the days when he couldn't catch her he would wake up and hear the sound of running water and then smile to himself. Why smile? Because he knew his wife was naked and the obstacle that was clothing would be littered on the floor.

Perfect.

Draco pushed his blankets off of him, slipped off his underwear and walked his way across their master bedroom and into the bathroom. He took a deep breath, examining the situation he was about to walk into and wondering if it was worth it. Steam had wafted over his head and across his body, instantly causing sweat to erupt. Draco tentatively poked his head in, saw the frosted covered mirror, and instantly knew what was waiting for him:

Shower hell.

His wife, Merlin bless her, liked to shower in the depths of hell for some odd reason. And it wasn't even hot for her! She said it felt "soothing."

"Soothing my arse," Draco grumbled as he stood in the middle of the bathroom and eyeing the glass door behind which his wife was enjoying her morning watery, fire spray. Once again he was debating if it was worth it when his wife let out a delectable happy moan that signified how much she was enjoying her morning shower. That moan, however, had been music to his ears as well as other parts of his body and it couldn't be ignored.

Draco braced himself and opened the shower door. He stepped in quickly, but the moment his feet touched the bottom of the shower, he yelped and jumped back, butting against the back of the shower.

Hermione instantly turned around, hands on her breasts as she had been obviously rubbing soap on them and stared wide-eyed.

"Draco! Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay!" Draco said as he did mini hops to keep his feet from standing in the water for too long. "How the hell do you not cook in here?!"

Hermione laughed. "It's not that bad."

"Tell that to my third-degree burns."

Hermione shook her head at him and turned the taps for cooler water. She then grabbed his hand and pulled him under it so that his feet could be in more "desirable temperatures."

"Better?"

"No," Draco replied bitterly, although it was short-lived. His feet did feel a bit better, but what was actually brightening his spirits was that Hermione had moved behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He closed his eyes at the feel of her body pressed against his back, her cheek too, and soon her lips as they trailed along his shoulder blades.

"Do you feel better now?"

Draco smiled, but was glad that she couldn't see. "Not at all."

Hermione huffed. "You're impossible."

"And yet you married me." Draco chuckled. "Whose fault is that?"

"No one told you to be charming, you attractive arse."

Draco laughed loudly and turned around in her arms. "Have I ever told you that I love your terms of endearment for me?"

Hermione shrugged naively. "Once or twice,"

Once, twice, three times… It was hard to keep track of the creative things she muttered under her breath or said out loud. It certainly wasn't cheesy "I love yous." It definitely was _not_ their style and most certainly wretch-worthy. Yes, he loved his mildly, foul-mouthed witch. Especially when she kissed and fondled him in non-conventional places -like a shower, for instance. He relished in her forced movements to press him against the shower wall and kiss his neck, moving her tongue along as she went as he cupped and squeezed her bottom. And, of course, the sneaky woman would somehow manage to raise the water temperature in the process. Or maybe he was just naturally feeling hot and bothered?

He suppose it didn't matter now Draco had recaptured Hermione's lips and twisted them around so that now _she_ was the one pinned. He quite enjoyed taking her against the shower wall. It was partly because walls presented something of a challenge, being upright and all. Not to mention a lovely little angle to thrust into his wife and make her damage the hell out of his shoulders with her nails. But mostly it was a pride and ego thing, because he wanted to make her scream over the sound of running water.

And he always did.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hello! Hello! So, I was recently introduced to some AMAZING artwork by Yehuda Devir and included were some of him and his wife depicting ordinary events. They were so adorable and so Dramione-worthy that I couldn't help but be inspired to make Dramione drabbles. Check out his work on Instagram jude_devir.

-WP


	2. The Feet of Death

In the past three weeks Draco must've bought Hermione a dozen pairs of socks. Maybe more. And yet somehow her feet always ended up bare and curled up underneath her for warmth. It was fine, he supposed. If she preferred body heat as opposed to what would be gained by socks, then sure. Whatever made her feel comfortable. However, when she tried to use _him_ for her body heat that's when he had an issue.

There must've been some sort of medical condition his wife had that was unknown to her. Draco could not for the life of him understand why her feet were like icicles! And it was the beginning of September for Merlin's sake! It wasn't the artic outside, and the house was in a perfectly, magically controlled environment so that there should be no complaint about feeling too hot or too cold. But that didn't stop her feet. Not a chance.

Even now as Draco sat on one side of the couch with a book in his hands and Hermione lay on the other with a book in hers, his eyes kept gravitating to her feet. They were lying next to him and, no matter how innocent they seemed, he knew there was a secret agenda going on. He noticed every bit of movement they made whether it be a cross at the ankles, a flex of her toes, or what he considered to be the most dangerous, their inching towards his waist. From there it would be the perfect opportunity to stuff her perfect little feet under his shirt and rest on his side. He _had_ to employ some sort of evasive action now if he wanted to save himself from her feet of death.

"Hermione Jean Malfoy," Draco said without taking his eyes away from his book. "If you put your frostbitten feet on me I promise you that I'll hold them hostage."

Hermione looked over her book with a brow raised in amusement. "What are you going to do? Cut my feet off and put them in a vault somewhere?"

"Touch me and you'll find out."

Hermione pondered his offer. Draco, knowing his wife, knew that she would test those boundaries. And so he waited. He sat still, feigning to be reading, and analyzed the movement to his left. There was a dip in the couch as her body adjusted itself. And then there it was. A pinch of ice touching his skin as though he had been dumped into a bucket of ice. He flinched terribly at the feel and sighed.

"Well," Draco said as he closed his book, set it aside, and turned towards Hermione. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

Hermione tilted her head in confusion for a moment before yelping in surprise. Draco had grabbed her legs by the shins and locked them under his arm. With his free hand he tickled her feet.

"No! No!" Hermione laughed and pleaded as she struggled against him, her book having fallen to the floor. "Stop! Draco! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"What was that?" Draco grinned as he continued tickling her. "I'm afraid I couldn't hear you over the noise you're making."

"I said-!" she kept laughing, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, you blond-headed nuisance!"

Draco scoffed. "I'm a nuisance, am I?"

Hermione had a moment of relief when Draco suddenly stopped tackling her feet with his fingers. However, it was much too brief and her eyes widened as her husband straddled her with lightning speed and began tickling her sides.

"Oh, Draco, no!" She cackled. "You're not a nuisance! You're not a nuisance!"

Draco stopped and smiled triumphantly as he hovered over her. "What am I then?"

Hermione took a deep breath, happy to finally be free of his clutches and grinned. "You're a sneakily underhanded man who I happened to fall in love with." She paused and then smirked. "Are you sure you didn't curse me?"

"Not that I can remember." Draco replied cheekily. "And even if I did, look how it turned out. You got married, you've got money, a nice house, a _fine_ specimen of a man to sleep with whenever you want. What's better than that?"

Hermione feigned serious thought before answering, "My own personal library with first editions of everything."

Draco pursed his lips. "Give me those damn feet."

"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione said quickly before grabbing his face and pulling his lips towards hers. Draco fell into it quickly and practically groaned aloud when she pulled away. "You are _never_ to tickle anything on me again."

"Are you sure?" He smiled wickedly. He let his hand spider-crawl from her side and quite dangerously close to the inside of her thigh. "You quite like it when I _tickle_ a thing or two."

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. "Okay, fine, maybe you're not completely banned."

"I thought so." Draco so smugly acknowledged that Hermione could taste it off him. "And since you're pinned, I might as well take advantage of you."

Hermione had expected him to take her pants off or maybe slip her shirt over her head, _not_ resume tickling her wherever he could. Her sides, under her arms, her thighs. _Nothing_ was off limits.

"Draco!" Hermione yelled as she writhed under him. "This wasn't the deal!"

"Who said I was a nice guy?" Draco replied as he continued to attack. Hermione was laughing, crying, screaming, and cursing. He quite liked the cursing bit as her choice in vocabulary never ceased to amaze him when it came out of her innocent-looking mouth. Her arms were flailing, her body wriggling, and her legs kicking.

The kicking.

He should have known that might come to bite him in the arse. Or kick him in his nuts. Either or. Draco yelled and Hermione sat up, her hand mouth as she stared at him cradling himself.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" Hermione said. "I didn't mean to!"

"You're _sorry?_ " Draco gritted between his teeth. As he leaned back on the other side of the couch. "Then why are you _laughing?_ "

Hermione removed her hand from her mouth, revealing her lips twisted in a poor effort to control herself. But she couldn't. She parted her lips and a full burst of laughter escaped her that filled the room.

"I just… I can't help… Oh, dear Merlin." Hermione replied between her giggles and wiping happy tears from her face. Draco, on the other hand, merely lay in front of her with a disgruntled expression and keeping his boys downstairs intact. Eventually she did calm down and took several deep breaths to do it.

"I really am sorry, Draco." She replied. He scoffed.

"Explain the smile then."

Hermione smiled even more. "Well, now I have to tickle something of yours to make up for it, don't I?"

Draco raised his brow, a smirk soon following. "That you do. If that's the result I'd tell you to kick me more often. However, I do want children one day."

"Agreed," Hermione chuckled, slowly making her way to her husband to engage in a more pleasurable, very mouth involved adult version of tickling.

* * *

 **Author's note:** LOL. This chapter is near and dear to my heart. I have warned my boyfriend several times not to tickle me or risk getting kicked. And yes, I've kicked him. Once in his family jewels for which I profusely apologized (after laughing HYSTERICALLY).

-WP

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 **Guest:** Thank you! I hope that you liked this chapter too :)


	3. The Squid Grip

_Month Two_

Draco and Hermione had a pretty decent sleeping arrangement. She was a cuddler. She liked to go to sleep in one of two ways: with her head on his chest, an arm wrapped around his middle, and his arms around her torso. If not that, she was a _huge_ advocate for being spooned which was no problem for him. It often led to an awkward boner with her bottom pressed against him and was later remedied by his wife in sexual antics that further led to sleepless nights. During the night they would break apart, her on the right side of the bed and him on the left. In the morning, however, it was a completely different story.

Draco worked at the Ministry, same as Hermione, but he went in earlier than she did. Or at least he tried to. With one eye opened, the next one following, he assessed the situation. He was sleeping on his stomach, the left side of his face buried into his pillow. Despite his nose having free access to fresh air, that wasn't the case. As it were, his face was obscured by an _obscene_ amount of bushy hair so that when he breathed in, hair followed and entered his nose and his slightly parted mouth.

There was also a heavy weight on his back. Draco's darling wife was sleeping on it. Her entire body from chest to arse was over his, her arms wrapped under his armpits like hooks, and a leg resting on either side of him.

 _How in the ruddy hell does she get like this?_

Draco breathed out a huge breath to move as much of Hermione's hair as possible.

"Hermione," he gruffly said as his throat adjusted to waking status. She didn't stir and so he jiggled his body a little from left to right. " _Hermione,_ "

Hermione buried her head into his neck. "Hmm?"

"You have to move."

"Whyyy?" She whined like a toddler. Her squid arms held him even tighter (if possible).

"Because I have a job. And it starts in…" He squinted his eyes through the forest that was her hair and stared at the muggle alarm clock on the nightstand. "In an hour."

"Quit."

Draco cracked a smile. Whenever she got like this he really did think about quitting. Aside from the fact that she was pleasantly adorable, the amount of effort it took to shake her was tiring. Ah well, it was time to put in a work out.

Draco gripped the side of the bed and began to pull himself forward. His head and collarbone was hanging off the bed before his sleepy wife began to grumble at him.

"Draco, you're ruining my sleep."

"If you shimmy onto the bed you can sleep some more."

"No. _You're_ my bed."

Draco laughed and stopped moving. "You're going to get me fired one day."

"You get partial access to your inheritance in a year." Hermione reasoned. "We'll be fine."

Defeated, Draco sighed. His fingers were just in reach of his wand's handle so he grabbed it and summoned some ink, a quill, and parchment. Magic was a bloody _blessing_. With his wand and the little movements of his wrist he managed to get the quill to ink itself and pen sloppy words. Once he was finished, letter properly rolled, and wand set aside, Draco whistled for his owl Ophir. Accustomed to his task by now, the owl paid no mind to Draco and instead scooped up the letter into his beak and flew out of the bedroom's open window. After that, he _struggled_ to push his body back to the middle of the bed.

An hour and a half later, Hermione, still on her husband's back, woke up completely surprised that he was still in bed.

"Draco," she poked him in the back of the head with her finger. "You're supposed to be at work."

"I wrote in sick." He mumbled into his pillow. Draco tilted his head and half smirked. "A common illness called 'wife-itis.'"

Hermione smiled sheepishly and blushed. "I guess I kind of owe you one, huh?"

"Already taken care of. I wrote in for you too. Now, lie down."

Draco raised an awkward arm that Hermione fell immediately under. He tucked his arm under her, pulling her close, and she snuggled up against him. This, he supposed, was better than work anyway.

* * *

 **Author's note:** There's nothing like a good cuddle when you sleep! Or...outright attack. My boyfriend happens to be the squid on occasion lol.

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 **Guest1:** Glad you liked it!

 **Guest2:** Wahoo! I'm always weary about writing humor, but I'm glad it works!

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